


get your lips wet

by liadan14



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, I got nothing else this is just porn, M/M, Mentioned Booker/OMC, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Nicky asks.Booker startles. He hadn't been aware Nicky was even listening to him, he'd seemed absorbed in his book, hunched over the kitchen table and staring at the pages."Uh," Booker says. "It was very cold in Russia?""No, before that."Booker smiles against his own better judgment. "I was lucky to share a bed with my lover at the time, because it was very cold in Russia."OR: Nicky and Joe didn't know Booker was into men or they would have asked a lot sooner.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 14
Kudos: 639





	get your lips wet

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?view=172626&posted=1#cmt172626) at the kink meme: Nicky and Joe have been thirsting after Booker for a while but they’ve never asked him to join them because he only ever talked about his wife so they assumed he wasn’t into men. One night (in a happy future after he’s back from exile) Booker casually mentions a fling he had with one of his fellow soldiers back in the Napoleonic Wars, and Joe and Nicky aren’t wasting any more time.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Nicky asks.

Booker startles. He hadn't been aware Nicky was even listening to him, he'd seemed absorbed in his book, hunched over the kitchen table and staring at the pages.

"Uh," Booker says. "It was very cold in Russia?"

"No, before that."

Booker smiles against his own better judgment. "I was lucky to share a bed with my lover at the time, because it was very cold in Russia."

"You've never told us about this lover," Nicky says.

Nile gives Booker a questioning look, like she's unsure if she's stepped into an old family feud by asking about Booker's time in the Napoleonic wars. Booker shrugs helplessly.

"It would have been awkward," Booker says. "Seeing as Guillaume was killed in battle two weeks before I died for the first time. And I was still married with children."

Nile snorts into her drink. "Classy," she says.

Booker shrinks in on himself. He's never made good decisions, they all know that.

"Wartime changes us all," Nicky says, unexpectedly coming to Booker's defence. "One takes comfort where one can find it."

"I wish my motives had been that pure," Booker says, "but I loved him at the time, just as much as I did my wife and I never told her about him. I had so many secrets from her after Russia anyway, what was one more."

"I never said you didn't love him," Nicky says. "Excuse me a moment."

He leaves his book face-down on the kitchen table and stalks off towards his and Joe's room, leaving Booker staring after him, incredulous.

"Sorry I asked?" Nile takes another deep drink. They've been speaking French to hone Nile's rusty high school language skills before their next mission in the Côte d'Ivoire, and her accent is really atrocious.

Booker blinks. "I honestly don't think that was your fault. I'm not even sure that was my fault." His instinct has been that everything is always his fault, ever since they let him rejoin the fold, ninety-nine years and six months earlier than he'd expected them to, but Guillaume and everything they were to each other is not something Booker ever thought he would need to justify to Nicky of all people.

They sip their drinks in silence - seltzer water for booker, a margarita for Nile - unsure of how to continue speaking now.

"Booker," Joe calls from the hall. "Booker, would you come here please?"

Booker looks over to Nile, expecting to share another bewildered glance with her on his way out the door, but instead, she looks like she's just understood string theory, and also a bit like it's Christmas morning. "Have fun with that," she snickers. "I think I'll go meet up with Andy and Quynh downtown.

Mystified, Booker continues down the hall to Joe and Nicky's room. The door is open.

"Joe?" he calls, unwilling to cross their threshold. "What is it?"

When they stay in big enough houses, when they're not sleeping six to a room, he's always felt it's impolite to trespass on their privacy. But now, Joe pushes the door open wider, ushers him in. "We were wondering," he says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Ah, that is..." He looks over to Nicky, apparently lost for words.

"We were wondering if you would join us for the night," Nicky says. He looks impassive, but his hands, clenching the back of a chair, are white-knuckled.

"Join...you..." Booker repeats. They're speaking Italian, as they have with each other for over two hundred years, but Booker's wondering if he's suddenly just forgotten how the language works. They can't possibly mean what he thinks they mean.

With a muttered entreaty - or possibly curse, Booker's Arabic isn't up to scratch - Joe crosses over to him, one hand warm on the back of his neck, the other cupping his cheek. His kiss is deeper than a first kiss with an old friend has any right to be, and Booker tilts his head to accept it deeper, to return everything he's getting and give back more. God, a hundred thousand nights respectfully outside their bedroom door, pretending he wasn't dying to know what happened behind it.

Joe breaks away to rest his forehead against Booker's. "You have no idea how long we've waited for that," he says hoarsely, and Booker wants to tell him that if it's anything like how long Booker's been waiting, he definitely, definitely does, but his chance is robbed by the impact of Nicky pinning him against the wall and absolutely ravaging his lips.

"Oh," he gasps in surprise when they pull apart.

"We thought," Nicky says, "that you only cared for women."

Booker swallows thickly around the intense desire to say something stupid like _I care for you_.

He loses his chance when Joe takes him by the hand and pulls him toward the bed, falling back on it and drawing Booker on top of him. Booker follows readily, thrilled to be lying here, on top of Joe, with Nicky crawling up behind them. He loses track of time, Joe's hands in his hair, their legs tangled together, Nicky pressing kisses up and down his neck. At some point, Nicky pulls at his shirt so hard it rips; at some point, Joe's legs wrap around his waist; at some point, Nicky presses a bottle of lube into his hands.

Watching Joe and Nicky kiss as Booker sinks into Joe to the hilt, time slams back into place and Booker groans like he's been shot.

Nicky pulls away to give him a warning look. "Don't come yet," he says. "I have plans for you."

Booker wants to ask, but if Nicky starts talking dirty, he has no chance of holding out. The sounds Joe's making are bad enough, breathy little moans when Booker presses in, deep indrawn breaths when he pulls out. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess, and Booker's not sure if this is a dream he had a hundred years ago come back to haunt him or his fantasy come to life.

Nicky presses kisses to Joe's lips, to his cheeks, to his shoulders, whispering to him in Italian. He tells Joe how well he's doing, how good he is at taking it, and Booker sighs out his agreement, "Sí, sí, sí," between thrusts.

"It it as good as you imagined, my heart?" Nicky asks, and Booker thinks his own heart just stopped.

Joe stares up at him, eyes wide with desire, and groans, "Better."

Booker's hips stutter so hard he pulls out on accident.

Joe's thighs tighten around Booker's hips, and in a move Joe's used on him more than once in practice fights that left Booker panting and exhausted and yearning, he flips Booker onto his back and sinks down onto his cock again. He throws his head back and Booker has to sit up and trace the trickle of sweat down his neck with his tongue.

Nicky slides in behind Booker, keeping him upright, mouth hot on his neck.

"Joe saw you, in Saint Moritz," Nicky whispers in his ear. "With the girl from the bar."

Booker's brain is entirely focused on holding Joe's hips tight, helping him rise and fall and fuck himself back on Booker's cock, on the tight clench of Joe around him, on the warm huff of his breath against Booker's cheek. It takes him a while to sort out the non sequitur.

"You fucked her up against the wall," Joe says, hoarse and low. "I wanted to _be_ her, _fuck_ , Book, there, right there."

Booker remembers Saint Moritz, remembers Joe and Nicky all over each other, remembers seducing the girl serving their drinks with a wink and a smile and wishing, as he'd fucked her, that he could have what they had.

He lets his forehead thunk into Joe's collarbone, fucking Joe through the knowledge that they've wanted each other for so damn long. He's making noise, he realizes, groaning through the desire, groaning through the clench of Joe around him.

"He's close," Nicky says, low in his ear. "Don't stop and you won't even have to touch him, isn't that right, love?"

Joe groans, agreeable, leaning into Nicky's touch as he draws quick circles around Joe's nipples.

Booker does his best to follow his orders. "Please," he begs, either for Joe to come or for Nicky to let him, he's not sure. "Please, you feel too good, Joe, you feel-"

Joe groans and clenches down tight around him, comes spurting up onto Booker's chest in a series of fluttering contractions around Booker and Booker sobs with him, holding himself back by the skin of his teeth and his nails dug deep into his own thigh.

"Nicky," he gasps as Joe rides the last of it out, grinding down onto Booker in tight little circles, "Nicky, I did as you asked, I can't hold back much longer, Nicky please."

Nicky makes a hot little pleased sound against the back of his neck and Booker whimpers.

"I was going to fuck you," Nicky says, "but I don't think we can wait that long."

Joe tumbles off to the side, watching them with hazy eyes as Nicky turns Booker to his side to face Joe, as he slots himself between Booker's thighs and fucks through them, wet with sweat and lube that trickled out of Joe onto Booker, and just the thought makes Booker moan.

Joe's hand on his cock is a surprise, and Booker barely makes it a minute as soon as Joe's touching him again, as soon as Joe's kissing him, as soon as he's got Joe tight to one side and Nicky tight to the other. He shoots hard, leaving him dizzy and disoriented and twitching against Joe's hand for long moments as it passes through him, Nicky twitching and coming hot between his thighs.

"Look at him," Nicky groans. "Covered in us."

Booker is, he realizes distantly, with the single brain cell still working. Joe's come is matted into his chest hair, his own is spread across his belly and Nicky's is dripping out between his thighs onto the mattress.

His dick twitches and he gasps in pain, oversensitive after coming so spectacularly.

"Book?" Joe asks. "Booker? Still with us?

"Uh-huh," Booker groans.

Nicky pokes him in the side.

"I think you've ruined me," Booker says when he can manage words.

Joe laughs, full throated. Booker looks over at him. There's a sheen of sweat covering his body as he stretches, satisfied, and then rolls over to sling an arm across Booker. "Perhaps we were a bit too eager," he says.

Nicky noses into Booker's hair from behind. "We've been thinking about this for a very long time," he says.

"So have I," Booker says, drowsy enough to be honest.

"We'll take it slower next time," Joe says, and Booker has enough time left before he passes out to be surprised and pleased there will be a next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://bewires.tumblr.com)
> 
> The title is from Peter Sarstedt's "Where do you go to my lovely" which has nothing to do with this fic except that it mentions St. Moritz


End file.
